


It's Always Sunny In Jersey

by pastelgothclaudia



Series: Sunny Jersey 'verse [1]
Category: Bandom, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Humor, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Tragic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-17 19:52:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13084194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelgothclaudia/pseuds/pastelgothclaudia
Summary: Gerard Way, failed artist and professional fuckup, co-owns Party Poison, a shitty bar deemed the worst in New Jersey where he and The Gang (his friends) hang out and pull dumb shit that usually gets them almost arrested. They're all complete fuckups in their own special way, but in some views Gerard can be considered as the biggest fuckup. He tries changing though, at least occasionally.Now, Gerard's really trying to change through getting over his exes to have some form of happiness in his life through throwing himself back into the dating game.The only problem is that he's just gotten a little too attached to the old spark he's kept for longer than he should've.An It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia AU





	1. "Gerard Hates His Life And The Gang"

**Author's Note:**

> ok my first formal bandom fic hoo boy
> 
>  
> 
> i'd personally like to thank [askthejerseygang on tumblr](https://askthejerseygang.tumblr.com/) for sparking this idea and giving me a plot for me to write this and uh disclaimer i've never actually watched it's always sunny in philadelphia because my parents blocked all tv-ma shows on the tv and i'm not leaking viruses on my computer from watching it on shitty streaming sites but i could analyze enough of the show through memes, clips, and some behind the scenes shit
> 
>  
> 
> anyways i hope you guys enjoy it

Gerard smells like piss and beer.

If he had any reason or motivation to fix that, he would (although admittedly he would just spray two cans of Febreze on himself). However, he doesn’t because he’s just going to the shitty bar he managed to own with all his shitty friends drinking shitty beer and pulling dumb shit that almost gets them arrested. So yeah, piss and beer scents would honestly be the least of everyone’s concerns.

Besides the scent is nothing compared to what it smells like outside, Gerard thinks, trudging downtown to the bar. It smells like a mix of stale and fresh cigarette smoke with that underlying scent of sewage, courtesy of the wonderful sewers strewn on practically every sidewalk. Not to mention the lingering factory smoke (au naturale) constantly fucking up everyone’s lungs and leaving anyone who has a nose with the birth of a headache.

Jersey really fucking sucks. He’d move if he could, but ironically he’s just gotten too attached to this place. There’s just something about it under all the grime and shit that really creates a link between Jersey and Gerard. He just can’t seem to find an actual reason though.

Gerard walks up to the front of the bar where the sign Frank stole from a demolished roller disco scrawls “Party Poison” in cursive pink neon. He pushes the doors open to find Bob wearing an inflatable sumo wrestler suit and giving Frank, wearing a skintight chrome bodysuit, a headlock, Ray wearing a suspiciously large amount of gold chains, and Mikey _actually_ smiling (which was honestly the strangest thing to happen _ever_ , because he’s only seen Mikey smile once when he accidentally hit someone with his arm cast he had and thought the guy’s excessive cries of pain was funny).

Suddenly he remembers why he wants to leave Jersey.

Rolling his eyes, he makes his presence known and asks an important question. “Hey assholes, where’s the beer?”

No one listens to him of course because they’re still caught up on whatever the fuck they’re doing today. Eh, he tried. Gerard walks up to the bar to see Mikey or whoever the fuck looks like Mikey and shows other emotions besides apathy.

Mikey actually notices that Gerard’s there and slides him a beer without a word. Popping open the cap with his trademark Shirt of Mysterious Stains, Gerard asks, “What’s goin on today?”

Mikey points at the rest of the gang. “Frank and Bob are trying to sneak into some kid’s birthday party because Bob thinks the kid’s mom is hot and loaded and they’re trying to decide what he’ll go as. Also, Ray’s still convinced about the gold chains falling on him thing and golden god talking to him.”

“Think your stupid, disco ball ass is better than a sumo wrestler?” Bob rages, his stupid, inflatable arms wrapped around Frank’s neck.

Frank thrashes around in Bob’s grip, looking a little like a shiny dollar store marionette being dragged around in the process. “Fuck you,” Frank chokes out. “At least I don’t look like a walking cow.”

“Cows can fucking walk, dumbass.” Bob drops Frank out of his grip and watches as his tiny body flops to the floor. Everyone, never tired of Frank getting his ass kicked, laughs at him collectively, ignoring all their current focuses.

Frank, who’s practically fucking dead, gets back up by putting a shaky hand on the surface of one of the tables. He hobbles over to a seat at the bar, making him look vaguely like Elton John with the tacky suit, but only if he took a mix of coke and beer and fell face first on the street. “Suck my dick, you guys,” Frank wheezes, flipping them off before passing out.

With that over, Gerard gulps another ounce of his beer and turns his attention back to Mikey. “So anyways, why the fuck were you smiling?”

Mikey slips his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans and raises an eyebrow at Gerard. “You’re really not gonna start on the Ray thing?”

Gerard waves his arms in the direction of Ray, who still looks pretty possessive of the stacks of gold chains slumped around his neck. “Of course I fucking know about the Ray thing, I live with him even though we’re not usually awake at the same time. Also, you avoided my question which means you’re hiding something, Mikes.” Still looking in Ray’s direction, he also notices that Bob’s stepping on Frank’s body and seems to wanna charge towards Ray, but that’s their problem.

Mikey makes a grumble of annoyance at Gerard’s shitty nickname and his confrontation as Bob tackles Ray. “It was Pete from the coffee shop down the street, alright? He texted me with that less than three heart and a lot of exclamation points.” Mikey whips out his Sidekick to show the proof.

**_< 3!!!!!!_ **

He could see why Mikey was all giddy. When Lindsey was still around, they would spend their hours apart texting each other the sappiest shit with hearts and “xoxo”’s always at the end. He misses that now, and he makes it even worse by going through their old memories and her new life on Facebook. But he fucked up one too many times and he got what he deserved. Gerard just didn’t deserve her in the first place. He’s too much of a fuckup, after all. He tips the bottle into his mouth only to find that the bottom is bare. Putting down the bottle on the bar, Gerard checks his watch.

11:17 AM

He should try getting back into the dating game.

Flashes of Chad’s punch flip into his mind, but it’s overpowered by the smile of an art girl who dreamed of making it.

“Shit!” Mikey exclaims.

Gerard snaps out of his thoughts to realize that Ray and Bob were hurtling towards them. Before he can think of what to do, the four of them collide forcibly, making them all tumble to the floor, leaving Gerard on the bottom of Bob’s giant, inflatable ass.

With dumbass friends like them in a shitty state like Jersey, Gerard supposes that having some joy from a relationship wouldn’t be too bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hit me up with those kudos and comments!!


	2. "The Gang Catfishes People Online"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry crisis y'all here's a new chapter

“Hey, Gee wher-“ Ray stops in front of Gerard’s doorway, his eyes beginning to form slanted lines as he takes in the sight and wreck that is Gerard’s trash heap of a room (which admittedly resembles more of a dumpster than a space for sleeping, or in Gerard’s case, passing out in) and Gerard equipped in black leather BDSM gear and bending over so his ass is sticking out in front of a shitty camera propped on a stool in front of him. “What the fuck.”

“I’m in the middle of doing shit, Ray. Aren’t you still obsessing over that golden god talking to you?” Gerard says unfazed, his ass still sticking out in front of the camera lens. The tiny, clunky camera flashes an even tinier ray of light before increasing its speed so swiftly, he thinks it’s about to almost explode. There’s just a quick, but brutal white burst of a white light and the camera doesn’t explode which is a small victory he supposes.

“Yeah, well, apparently all those chains were falling out of the safe of that mom Bob was chasing and we both got our asses beat, but not arrested which is good. And uh,” Ray motions at Gerard’s attire. “Are we more broke than usual? Are you becoming a camboy? Because as long as you’re making money for the both of us, I’ll really not give a shit if I walk in on you wearing full on kink shit with a plug stuck up your ass.”

Gerard grabs the camera off the stool and looks over the picture. “Ray, I’d literally never post a picture of me online even if I was like, all chiseled abs and tan so there goes that camboy thing and also, we’re still broke, but not like _that_ broke.” Gerard watches Ray as his face shifts from relieved to slightly disappointed in the span of a few seconds.

Gerard just continues on explaining, still holding the camera in his hand. “You do know I’m trying to get back into dating, right?” Ray shakes his head a bit hesitantly, his head budging side to side slightly. To keep Ray from judging him any more, Gerard tries to say something that makes him sound as logical as possible. “So I’m trying to start dating again and since no one who sees me is gonna wanna just date me on the spot, I’m gonna catfish someone online. I’m just saving this so after I manage to catfish someone into dating me, they’ll come to my shitty ass room and where we may or may not fuck, but then they’ll find this pic of me and then they’ll _totally_ fuck me because they’ll be all, ‘Wow I always needed a freak like that. I should fuck him.’ and it’ll be great.”

Ray stands there frozen for a few minutes, most of his face transformed into an assortment of creased lines. “That’s...really not how it’s gonna work.”

Gerard scoffs and snatches the first thing his hands can grab (some shirt it seems) from a random pile off the floor and chucks it at Ray. “Fuck you, it totally will.”

Knowing that Gerard halfasses washing his clothes once a month, Ray wards whatever he threw at him by smacking it to the floor. But then Ray kicks the shirt up in the air and hurls it towards Gerard’s face, concealing everything from his inky dyed hair to the creepily pale, almost white skin of his neck. He sniffs the fabric of the thing, but there’s just no scent to it which is weird because every single thing he’s worn has had a scent (mostly because he never washes his clothes), most of them being beer, smoke, and markers. There’s only one reason he can think of. With his cameraless hand, he snatches the shirt away from his face and reads “SHITTY TEEN” scribbled in faded red sharpie. 

He freezes for a moment, his hand trembling around the fabric. Of course it would be hers. Lindsey’s ghost just loves to follow him around, it’s almost sadistic. Gerard stomps towards his closet and slings the shirt to a corner he knows he’ll never see it again that way, but in his frustration it lands in the center. Whatever. Everything will just pile up in the future anyways. 

Gerard turns around to find Ray frowning at him. “You okay?”

No, he’s not. He’s so fucking tired of everything. But Gerard just sighs. “Yeah, I guess I am now.”

Ray walks to Gerard with a small smile and puts an arm around his shoulder, though it’s not actually touching Gerard’s skin, just hovering above it probably because he’s still threatened by the whole BDSM getup. “So you wanna catfish someone into dating you…” 

-

“Ok so what if we just searched up some emo twink on MySpace with his bangs covering his whole fucking face and just say it’s Gerard?” Bob seems extremely proud of his idea, especially the halfassed drawing of a circle with a giant black blob plopped on top of it that Gerard is almost certain was on the slips of cardstock that was supposed to be used for business cards.

Gerard guesses Ray felt a little bad after he saw his mini breakdown over the shirt and really, Lindsey in general. He’s trying to make Gerard feel better through helping him on his catfishing mission, but he really doesn’t know why Ray would still enlist The Gang to help him since all of them always spurt out some pretty stupid shit.

They were all either seated or standing around the bar as someone would try to say another shitty idea. Unfortunately to the dismay from Gerard, The Gang seems to agree with Bob.

 

“I gotta admit that’s actually a pretty good one,” notes Mikey, taking a sip from the can of Red Bull dangling from his fingers. “But what if we just photoshop Gerard’s face onto the twink for realism?”

 

“Do you guys really think I look like some skinny ass emo twink?” Gerard motions towards his entire body, showing that it’s mostly just different amounts of fat all around.

 

“Pfft, of course not. We’re just trying to achieve your demographic of weird goths and punks.” Ray says, actually making a good point.

 

“Yeah,” Bob elbows Frank in the chest, seemingly snapping him back into reality judging by the way his eyes widen for a second. “Maybe you can just post a pic of Frankie here, he always attracts weirdo punks.”

 

Yeah, Gerard thinks, he managed to attract a weirdo punk like _him._

 

Frank, getting noticeably uncomfortable, punches Bob in the shoulder to (poorly) hide his growing embarrassment. “Yeah right,” he starts to awkwardly chuckle, his gaze shifting from Bob to Gerard. “Like I’d do anything for _you_ after you gave me this motherfucker of a concussion.”

 

“Isn’t that just Bob’s way of showing affection?” Mikey notes.

 

Bob pats Frank on the head like he’s a stray puppy. “Of course, who else would give little Frankie here a good, fun fight?”

 

“Guys, stick to the subject: the catfish.” Ray reminds them.

 

“Oh yeah,” Bob begins. “So I was thinking we could also just put his face on some really hung pornstar so everyone will click on his profile for sure.”

 

That’s the point where Gerard decides to stop listening. Just as he’s about to zone out, Frank catches his sight from across the bar. He imitates smoking a cigarette and mouths “ _Smoke outside?_ ”. Gerard nods. Frank gets up from his seat to go back to the alley in the back and Gerard follows, leaving the conversation without anyone noticing.

 

In the alley, there’s two shady looking guys in the middle of a drug deal judging by the white powder in the plastic bag one of them was holding up. Frank shoos them away, both of them looking annoyed. “We’re trying to smoke here, assholes. Go away, just finish this in a McDonald’s or something.”

 

After the guys leave, Frank passes Gerard a cig from his pocket and passes his lighter too. Gerard lights up the cigarette, breathes in the chemicals, and blows the smoke out into Frank’s face.

 

Smiling, Frank swats the smoke away and pollutes the air with his own. “Asshole.”

 

Gerard just shrugs and gets a strong sense of déjà vu, but can’t remember the memory.

 

“So,” Frank begins, his sight fixed at the floor, “you’re really trying to get into that dating shitshow again?”

 

“Yeah, really. It’s just that Mikey’s all grossly happy with that Petey guy or something and it kinda makes me miss me being all grossly happy.”

 

Frank makes a small nod and looks back up at Gerard. “Well, let’s hope we con someone into helping you with that.”

 

He remembers why smoking in the alleyway with Frank seemed so familiar. They used to do this shit all the time in high school to skip fifth and last period so they could make out and talk about whatever. Gerard misses it, but as always, he fucked up that whole relationship thing too and he’s lucky enough for Frank to still _talk_ to him so he’s not taking any chances anymore. He still can’t help wondering what he still thinks about him, though, but it’s probably not anything good.

 

“Yeah,” Gerard says, smiling a little sadly. “I really hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was it shit? was it not? leave a kudos and comment to fuel my fire for writing more!


	3. "Frank Wanted A Threesome With Danny Devito"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i haven't updated in a year happy 2018 y'all one more year till BL/IND slaughters us
> 
> anyways, hope you enjoy the longerer chapter to make up for not updating in a while

_The sun was disgustingly bright and the lack of clouds in the sky made it even more unbearable. It was ironic, really, how Gerard would prefer the much more bearable bleak gray skies he would constantly complain about over the toxic blue lacing the sky. The birds even chirped in harmony as they flew past him, much to Gerard’s disdain._

 

_That’s why Frank suggested sitting under the weeping willow at one of Jersey’s not so shitty parks (considering there were no [reported] cases of any murder). The tree’s leaves acted like nature’s bead curtain and the plethora of thick branches provided room for as many leaves as it needed. The willow also had the advantage of being placed inside a corner of the forest, a couple trees hiding their spot and hiding whatever they did._

 

_Whatever they did that day involved making out._

 

 _Frank’s back pushed to the trunk of the tree and Gerard was in front of him, his hands placed on the bark besides his head, their mouths (and maybe a little tongue) meeting sloppily, but eagerly and making a few wet pops and small moans in the process. Frank even palmed Gerard’s crotch a little (which is something that he didn’t expect, but was_ **_more_ ** _than okay with)._

 

_But, the two of them were here for (mostly) one reason which is why Gerard pulled them apart, a string of spit between their lips cut as well._

 

_Frank whined and slumped his hands to his sides. “Asshole.”_

 

 _“Well, you_ **_did_ ** _agree to come here to check out the new pieces I’ve been planning to submit to some art schools.” Gerard took out his sketchbook, stuffed with horror sketches, failed plans, and drawings of Frank._

 

_“I did.” Frank turned some of the sketchbook pages and pointed at a red pencil sketch of a boy with an array of different sized eyeballs surrounding him. “Is this a new one?”_

 

_Gerard nodded as Frank hummed in contentment, turned another page, and squinted at its contents. “Is that...Danny Devito...having a threesome with us?”_

 

 _“No!” Gerard looked at the the drawing. It was an abstract sketch of a tangled fire hose Gerard saw and drew when the bus was late one time. How could Frank get_ **_that?_ ** _“That’s an abstract piece dumbass.”_

 

_Frank shrugged. “I dunno, Gee, sounds to me like you’re just covering up the fact that you wanna get fucked by Danny’s magnum dong.”_

 

_Gerard rolled his eyes as Frank practically lost his breath laughing at his own joke, back rolling in the grass blades and in hysterics._

 

_With the sketchbook held in his hands, Gerard waited for Frank to recover from his comical state so he could notice the tired, flat expression on Gerard’s face._

 

_“Wow, ha, ha, ha,” Gerard droned in a monotone that almost sounded like Mikey’s. “You got me. I totally want to have sex with Danny Devito as his giant, meaty dick pounds me.”_

 

_Frank repressed a snicker as he lifted his dirt and grass stained body from the ground with his elbows. “That’s actually kinda hot, to be honest.”_

 

 _“Looks like_ **_you’re_ ** _the one who’s got a thing for Danny.”_

 

_“What can I say,” Frank began, nuzzling his face in Gerard’s shoulder. “I got a thing for guys with magnum dongs”_

 

_Gerard frowns. “And you don’t think mine lives up that?”_

 

_“Of course it does, that’s why I’m gonna blow you.”_

 

_Gerard’s eyebrows shot up as soon as Frank finished his sentence, unsure if he was more surprised at the fact that Frank’s gonna try to blow him in the fucking park or the fact that he said it as casually as asking for a pencil in class._

 

_“You’re not actually gonna fucking do that, right?” Gerard said, laughing nervously as Frank’s face lowered itself down his body._

 

_“Pfft,” Gerard felt the sound from Frank’s mouth against his dick, which he had to admit felt really fucking good. “Of course I am. But like, only if you’re okay with it.”_

 

_Gerard looked at Frank straight in the eyes. He was almost begging and he didn’t even have to say another word. “Fine.” His face immediately beamed at the response._

 

_Frank fiddled with the zipper of his jeans and Gerard just let him go on while he burrowed his fingers through Frank’s hair as he went down on him._

 

 _It was a good blowjob because 1) it was from Frank and 2) he_ **_really_ ** _knew what he was doing. But of course he had to get fucking dirt on his dick._

 

_“You got dirt on my dick,” Gerard said simply as he zipped up his jeans._

 

_Frank leaned his his head on the older one’s shoulder, probably just to wipe off the extra drops of cum dripping from his mouth on Gerard’s clothes._

 

_“You’re also fucking gross.”_

 

_“You love it though.”_

 

_“Yeah,” Gerard said, his mouth forming a smile as he locked eyes with the boy he somehow managed to have feelings for. “Guess I do.”_

 

-

 

Gerard doesn’t remember what he dreamt last night, but whatever it was, it makes him think of Frank a lot for some reason. But the thing is, it doesn’t make him think of how Frank is now (a tiny punkass who managed to get Bob to hang out with him a lot), it makes him think of him like when they were dating (a tiny punkass that looked hot even with his stupid mohawk and who he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with).

 

Weird.

 

It was probably just that dream of them having a fistfight in an art museum while Mikey, Ray, and Bob occasionally joined in and screamed. That one usually comes up from time to time. He had an empty feeling of that being the case, but a headache (from a hangover or something else he couldn’t remember) was on the verge of beginning and Gerard really didn’t want to think about anything from the past while his head feels like overused punching bag.

 

Even without the headache, he didn’t really feel like getting out of the protective warmth of being under his paint-stained sheets to the brittle cold of the apartment and really, the entire state in general. It’s not like there’s anything out there for him anyways, just the aftermath of shitty relationships from a long time ago and failed new ones. Maybe he’ll just sit and zone out before Ray gets up and physically drags him by the foot out of bed and into the kitchen for their tradition of hangover pancakes on Sundays.

 

“Rise and shine, Gerard!” Ray booms from the other side of the wall.

 

Gerard groans, but quickly muffles it with his pillow. Any sign of misery from him will just give Ray a better reason to drag him out.

 

The man himself pops his head Gerard’s doorway, but he looks a little more sheepish than usual. Probably still scared that he’s gonna see Gerard dressed up in something even kinkier than BDSM shit even at the crack of dawn.

 

“Morning, goth boy.” Ray says eventually.

 

“What fucking time is it, asshole?”

 

“It’s only like, eight in the morning.”

 

Fucking Ray and his thing of fucking waking up before fucking noon.

 

“Can’t I just get your pancakes at a time I actually wake up?”

 

Ray shakes his head, making his hair look like a  tumbleweed pom pom. “It’s tradition for me to drag your ass out and you can’t break tradition. Besides, I’ll put out some Advil with the orange juice. Can you just get up?”

 

The promise of that seemed good, but Gerard still didn’t want to move his ass out into the cold. In response, he huddled under his bedsheets.

 

“Okay, you asked for it.” Ray walks up to Gerard’s bed and fumbles for his leg and drags him out of bed along with the sheets.

 

“Ugh,” Gerard groans as he sweeps the floor’s dust and dirt with his face (and maybe his mouth). “You suck.”

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s your thing.” And yeah, that was a good comeback and Gerard couldn’t actually think of anything to say so he just angrily squinted his eyes at Ray.

 

Once they got to the kitchen, Ray plops Gerard with his blanket on the floor and starts looking for pancake ingredients. “You okay down there?” he asks as his head was in the fridge.

 

“Yeah, I’m prolly gonna sleep a little more,” answers Gerard, his face flat on the dusty hardwood. “Just like, wake me up once you have some fucking Advil.”

 

It turns out, it doesn’t take long for Ray to get the pancakes _and_ the Advil out and Gerard starts to consider if he should start paying Ray for being like his butler.

 

After putting a plate of his amazing pancakes on their tiny table, Ray goes over to where Gerard is and kicks him a little. “Wake the fuck up.”

 

Gerard gets the fuck up, much to Ray’s pleasure and trudges over to the table with the blanket over him. Once he’s slumping in one of the chairs (“retro” as the guy who sold them for a dollar said), he starts stabbing his pancakes with his fork and stuffing them in his mouth. They’re good as always because they’re Ray pancakes and for a second, Gerard actually feels happy.

 

Then that second passes and Gerard wants to shove the entire bottle of Advil down his throat.

 

“Don’t choke on my pancakes again,” Ray says tiredly. “I made those with love and butter and we don’t have life insurance if you die like an idiot.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Gerard says, mouth filled with pancakes and dripping syrup. Then he chews up his food, swallows it up, pops a couple of Advil, and gulps it down with a cup of orange juice. “See? Not dead, unless you count my mental state.”

 

“Life insurance for that would be a good investment, but it’s not a thing, which sucks for you.” Ray says, pulling out his computer from his room and sitting across from Gerard. He looks like an accountant with how serious he looks and how serious his glasses look on him as he types away. Gerard bites back a giggle because seriously, _Ray_ having such a boring ass, 9 to 5 job. Suddenly, Ray perks up and scurries to Gerard’s side of the table.

 

“Ta-da!” he announces, pointing at the webpage. It’s an account on Bloody Valentine, a dating website for “corpses, vampires, and all-around freaks” as it proclaims under the dripping logo. The profile has a checkered background with a red and black theme shown in the posts. There’s even some Blingee of a rotting, glittery drawing of a heart as one of the posts. Whose profile is this?

 

“Uh, cool, but uh, what’s this?”

 

“It’s your dating profile.” Ray points to Gerard’s name on the page. “We even put some emo guy as your you.”

 

The profile picture is an extremely blurry photo of some goth with hair as long as Gerard’s and all dressed in black.

 

“Whoa,” That’s impressive. He could pass that off as himself without anyone knowing it isn’t. “Shit, Ray, thanks a lot.”

 

The man simply shrugs. “Eh, no biggie. It was about time I put that digital business minor to work. And uh, just a warning, I let some of The Gang help spice up your profile I guess.”

 

Suddenly, the laptop blares some music out of nowhere, almost shocking Ray into dropping it and making Gerard wince at the volume. Swiftly, he mutes the audio. “Yeah, Frank added a fucking eight hour playlist of his shitty ass punk stuff.”

 

Gerard rolls his eyes because forcing his music taste is _such_ a Frank thing to do. But, then Gerard remembers the whole sappy feeling about Frank earlier in the morning. He decides not to think about him at the moment.

 

To Gerard’s pleasure, a knock on the door distracts him from his thoughts.

 

“If you’re the landlord, fuck off,” Gerard yells at the door.

 

Ray, being a human with morals and a brain, walks to the door, but Gerard swears he hears him mutter “Fucking Gerard and pissing off the guy who lets us live here,”.

 

He swings the door open and Mikey is there, a Wawa coffee in hand.

 

“Why are you here?” Gerard asks.

 

“Pete dropped me off. I need you guys to drive me to Party Poison later because I’m too broke to take the bus.”

 

Ray’s eyes narrow. “If this guy dropped you off, then why can’t he drop you off at the bar?”

 

“First of all his name is Pete and second,” Mikey throws a look at Gerard.” _somebody_ tried to put rat poison in Pete’s drink there one time and stabbed him in the thigh with a fountain pen in the same night. Thanks, Gerard, he’s got anxiety now.”

 

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Pete’s just a fucking pussy.” Jesus, he knew Petey boy was kinda weak, but he didn’t know he was _this_ weak. Who can’t handle a stab in Jersey?

 

Mikey stares at Gerard dead in the eye and for a second, he’s convinced that his own little brother is gonna strangle him to death. To his relief, Mikey simply walks past the two of them and locks himself in the bathroom.

 

Brothers. God, that can get annoying.

 

Ray draws the attention back to Gerard’s cat fishing attempt. “Okay, so anyways the only person you’ve got matched with right now is Muriel, a quote unquote “Anime Professor and Ready To Be Your Waifu”, so you’ve got a real fucking ride, Gee.”

 

Gerard puts his head down on the table, feeling a headache come in despite the Advil.

 

Maybe he _will_ drop by Party Poison, and maybe he’ll see the newspaper clipping of “Poisoned Party: The Worst Bar In Jersey” or see Frank or Bob fight to death over stupid shit and forget about how shitty he is.

 

Then Gerard remembers he actually has to go there because they actually have to open tonight so there’s actually going to be people who want to be customers there. As much as Gerard wants a distraction, he’d rather choke than deal with a customer.

 

“Got any sleeping pills?” he asks Ray out of nowhere, who in response just looks really confused and concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu with those marks of validation (kudos and comments) to encourage me to write more!!!


	4. "Gerard Is Completely Happy With His Life"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all i'm not dead lol   
> idk how to feel about this chapter but enjoy

Gerard walks into the seemingly empty bar with Mikey and he realizes that they both look like they’ve jumped straight out of hell. He supposes his car could qualify as hell since it blasts Misfits at a ear bleeding volume with an ungodly amount of bass because of his broken speaker making it sound like Danzig had a throat infection, but kept screaming. Ray hadn’t gone along with them because he said he was “actually doing work for owning the bar” and he’d catch up which Gerard honestly thinks is bullshit because he’s co-owned the bar as long as he did and he’s never done anything, but now he really wished that he did that bullshit too.

 

Mikey had been reasonably pissed because halfway through the drive he realized he could’ve walked here and tried to jump out of the window because his door couldn’t open. It makes sense, Gerard realized that too when he was driving and impulsively jerked the car into a U-Turn. But, regardless, they’re still here, mostly because they’re legally required to.

 

“Your car’s a real piece of shit, Gee,” Mikey grumbles as he slunks in.

 

“If you’re gonna bitch about my shitty car, pay my student loans and buy me a new car then, Mikes,” Gerard retorts.

 

“I already did. That Speed Racer replica model cost me a lock of my hair and a thousand dollar Santa hat, you’re fucking welcome.”

 

Gerard makes a mental note to stop criticizing Mikey since he usually has the upper hand because he’s gotten him out of a lot of Gerard’s bullshit for the past thirteen years.

 

At this point he realizes he and Mikey are the earliest somehow and there’s no one around. Good. He supposes since he’s technically at the bar and already did his work (exist and co-own the bar) and there’s no customers so he walks towards the door before Ray blocks his way. 

 

“You’re not going because I got some fucking news that you’re probably gonna wanna hear.”

 

Gerard groans. “Can’t you just tell me now? Also, didn’t you have to do shit anyways?”

 

“I did do shit and I actually finished it and we still own and get a share of this place thanks to me. Just go to that back office before the rest of the guys get here and fuck up more of your weird internet romance. Mikey’ll probably take over, right?” Ray turns around to ask Mikey, now texting at the bar and giving a weak thumbs up in response. 

 

Ray shoves Gerard into the office, leaving Gerard to wonder what the fuck Ray’s rambling about.

 

-

 

The office is a room in the back filled with customer complaints for shredding and shitty ideas tacked up from a couple years to “improve” the bar. Gerard’s also pretty sure there’s an opossum somewhere using the complaints pile as a home, but he’s pretty sure the last time he saw it, foam was dripping from its mouth. He does his best to tiptoe around it and approach the desk.

 

“So,” Ray begins. “you know how I said The Gang helped me with your dating profile, right?” Gerard nods slowly, having a feeling about where this conversation was going. “Yeah, uh, we kinda lied a lot on your profile and someone who actually looks like they have a life seems interested in you.”

 

Ray opens up his laptop to a profile of someone named Jessicka. For a goth website, she really fits the mold as her picture is a woman with jet black shoulder length hair and a red and black  dress. She looks pretty pissed too and that kinda reminds him of himself. Gerard reads over her description. 

 

**Name** **: Jessicka**

**Age** **: 22**

**Likes** **: music, writing, people outside of the box, singing, cats, screaming, art**

**Dislikes** **: assholes, liars, bossy assholes, jet lag, artichokes, meninists, God**

**Description** **: Artist. Musician. Probably gonna rip your dick off if you don’t handle me with care.**

 

“Holy shit, someone like that is interested in  _ me _ ?”

 

“Well,” Ray says in an uncomfortably high voice. “she’s probably actually interested in the you we made up.” He clicks on the tab of Gerard’s profile, still as glittery and gothic as ever. Then he points at the profile description.

 

**Name** **: Gerard**

**Age** **: 25**

**Likes** **: fantasy characters (specifically Luke Skywalker), pretentious ass art, drinking, dicks (not personality wise but you know), cool goth music (would die for Morrissey and The Cure), milksteak, Luke Skywalker, my LotR replica sword, vampires (i only date vampires), goblins, anal**

**Dislikes** **: exes, the fact that gravity can’t be turned on and off, the Catholic Church, optimism, playing guitar, Dreamworks movies, Cartoon Network, wasps, anything to do with something positive (it ruins my goth vibe)**

**Description** **: Hey I’m Gerard and I’m a freelance artist and business owner. If we don’t fuck in a cemetery on the first date, I’m gonna be skeptical of our relationship. I’m byesexual ;)**

 

Gerard squints at the page again to confirm that he isn’t hallucinating what he’s seeing. 

 

“Yeah.” Ray says, probably at a loss of words to describe it. “Considering the fact that her pic and description look pretty normal, I’m pretty sure she probably thinks you’re funny.”

 

“Uh, I’m sure she does.” He really hopes she doesn’t end up liking all of these things unironically, that would just be a mess for the both of them.

 

For a couple moments, they sit in a relative silence (he could still hear the familiar rustling sound of the possum) with a loss of words to say, but it leaves Gerard to just stare at Ray and think. He’s lucky to have Ray help him with one part of his shitty life, but why would he  _ want  _ to help him in the first place? Sure, Ray actually has morals, but he’s smart enough to know that he’s not gonna get anything out of this, but another drunk Gerard hurling in their bathroom once this Jessicka girl and him break up. Maybe he should try to clue Ray in that he doesn’t really need to be involved in Gerard’s soon to be fourth failed relationship.

 

“Dude, why are you willingly helping me?” Eh, subtlety was never Gerard’s strong suit anyways.

 

Ray looks a little taken aback at first, but answers. “Well ‘cause I’m your friend.”

 

“We all know that’s a fucking lie. That’s the same excuse you used to let a stranger bleach my asshole for $20.”

 

“It was a valid excuse and I was high and I was a sophomore. It was really not a good time for the both of us.”

 

“Can you just tell it to me straight?”

 

“I already answered you.”

 

“No, you didn’t.”

 

“Yes I did.”

 

“Jesus Christ, can you just say it?”

 

“Fine,” Ray says, sounding uncharacteristically pissed. “Your life is really fucking pathetic and I’m going through some of the shit you are. Helping you makes me kinda feel like I’ve solved my own problems, y’know?”

 

Huh, that was actually sadder and more well thought out than Gerard thought it would be. It kind of leaves him in a shock for a minute. “Ray...you don’t have to do that. You’re an actually nice guy and you should be out there doing shit that doesn’t have to do with babysitting your roommate. Just,” Gerard pauses for a moment to realize that he doesn’t know where he was gonna go with this. He’s pretty sure he was gonna go on the whole Ray with Mikey and relationships tangent, but skips that and says whatever sounds not as stupid “Uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is you don’t have to waste your time on me to feel better about yourself.”

 

Ray is stunned silent for a minute, his eyes looking wide as a canyon, but finally manages to open his mouth after a couple minutes. “That’s the most coherent and thought out thing you’ve ever said.” Gerard smiles a little at him, feeling a little proud of himself. 

 

Then there’s a howl and a chitter coming from the corner of the room.

 

Reluctantly, Gerard and Ray turn their heads to the concerningly loud and shaky pile of papers.

 

“Do you know what’s under there?” Gerard asks.

 

“Oh, yeah…” Ray trails, quietly chuckling awkwardly and crouching down near the pile, seemingly trying to lure the thing out. “Moonshine, c’mon Moonshine, get out.”

 

“Moonshine? This isn’t Warrior Cats or the thirties.”

 

Ray shushes him as he sees Moonshine slowly creep out of the shadows. “Hey buddy.” Ray reaches out to pet it or whatever even though Gerard’s pretty sure it’s foaming at the mouth.

 

Then Moonshine fucking pounces at the both of them and Gerard’s pretty sure it jumped on the radio buried somewhere because as he and Ray get clawed, Wake Me Up (Before You Go Go) plays in the background.

 

-

 

Ray and Gerard stumble out the back looking like they were shoved down a blender with a bunch of pissed off animals with sharp teeth. After the quick attack made by the weird thing in the office, he’s pretty sure the thing (probably) didn’t have rabies, but Gerard’s pretty sure they should both probably get their bites checked because the teeth marks also have a suspicious tint of green to them and as much as he likes them, Gerard doesn’t want to turn into some mutant zombie. 

 

Now, maybe he can walk home (or get to the ER, whichever comes first) and sit in front of his laptop and anxiously hover over it to determine whether he wants to send a message to Jessicka or not. It sounds about right for a Sunday night and maybe Gerard could drink a little and IM whatever he says when he’s drunk.

 

“Wazzup, bitches!” a shout slurs from the bar, startling Gerard from his thoughts. Christ. There’s only one person that loud and already drunk who would be here on a Sunday night. Mikey must realize who it is too because he sees him walk in from the back door and suddenly walks into the storage closet. Gerard can even hear a click of a lock.

 

Gerard sighs. He’s gonna end up being noticed anyways so he might as well get this over with.

 

“Hi, Gabe,” he mutters, his voice as excited as someone in a coma.

 

“Hey, Gee Way. Frankie’s nice ‘n he let me in so you know I’m gonna splurge.” Gabe strolls forward from the entrance, ending his sentence with a dazed giggle.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Gerard sees Frank almost sprints to the back room and mouths “He’s all yours tonight,” much to his disdain.

 

If Frank’s gonna stick Gerard with Gabe, he might as well search for something for the Gabe Conspiracy. He analyzes Gabe’s fashion choice for the night. It’s that stupid purple hoodie again and neon pants with what he’s pretty sure is a fucking Gucci watch. Typical, he’s almost like a walking strobe light. Gerard  _ really  _ wonders how the fuck he wears such fuck ugly clothes if he’s (presumably) rich.

 

The Gang has a whole conspiracy board (birthed by Mikey when he was a freshman) about whether Gabe is just some really rich dumbass who thinks going to shitty bars and doing drugs there and sleeping around is cool and edgy or he’s some really successful prostitute who uses his money on drugs and liquor. Considering Gabe exclusively wears ugly neon clothes Gerard’s seen in Target before since he met him in high school $2,600 actual silver accessories, results are extremely inconclusive. Mikey even  _ slept  _ with him sometime in junior year to find out what was going on and all he found out was that Gabe was kinda clingy and liked wall sex. 

 

“Aw, I haven’t seen you in a while, Gee, come ‘ere,” Gabe wraps his lanky arms around Gerard’s shoulders and much to his displeasure, tightens his arms into a squeeze that he’s unable to struggle out of.

 

“Isn’t annoying Frank your job?” Gerard snides.

 

“Of course it is man, but he kinda let me in and I don’t want him to kick me out, y’know?” Gabe gestures towards whatever’s around him. “Also, it was either you or Ray, and I kinda owe him some niceness because I almost got him mugged a month ago so-“

 

Gerard steps aside and shoves a beer from the counter into Gabe’s mouth, which successfully shuts him up.

 

God, he really wishes that he could ban Gabe, especially when he’s drunk, wants to get drunk, or starts doing a line on the bar, but he’s really the only person keeping this bar going and keeping everyone with a moderately liveable salary.

 

Finally, Ray gets noticed as he attempted to slink out of the entrance of the bar with Bob, and, being people with brains, they initially cringe at the nuclear hug they get from Gabe. But of course, Ray’s also an incredibly nice person and smiles, returning the hug gladly while Bob forces a weak grin. 

 

“Hey Toro!” Gabe exclaims. “The most of the gang’s really here, huh? Wait, where’s Mikey?”

 

“He’s dead,” Mikey’s voice muffles from the closet. Considering Gabe is drunk as shit right now, Gerard almost expects him to believe that and move on, but he must be more sober or smarter than he thought because Gabe walks over to the closet door and knocks on the surface.

 

“Mikey? You’re really dead? ‘Cause if so you should really get your ghosty ass out here.”

 

“Yeah, uh, that whole going through doors thing doesn’t work so-“ 

 

Bob walks in front of Gabe and the door. “Relax, party boy, I got an axe right here that’ll get him out.” Then he runs to the bar and picks up a giant fucking axe that he’s surprised no one ever noticed. 

 

“Where the fuck did you get that?” Gerard asks.

 

“Some yard sale. This priest guy said it was from some old fireman so I took it.” Bob promptly hurls the axe towards the door and fucking obliterates it and slashes it that everyone just stares at Bob out of fear, including Mikey as he appears as the door is gone. Everyone goes silent through the minutes Bob aggressively used to wreck the door, mostly out of disbelief that any of this was happening. Then, acting like nothing happened he adds, “He also said it could be cursed, but like, oh fucking well.”

 

“Yeah...I’m sure…” Gerard trails off, creeping backwards and feeling for the door. But of course, that’s the moment someone decides to slam it open right into Gerard’s fucking face.

 

“Alright Frank this better be important because Pete’s pissed at me for making him take over.” Jamia chides as she stomps through the door, with Gerard stuck to it.

 

Frank looked giddy as Jamia walked in. Ugh. Not this again. Gerard physically prys his face from the door in a slightly dizzy haze just to groan in disappointment. Ever since Frank met Jamia at the coffee shop, he’s been absolutely obsessed with her. Apparently, they were best friends after Gerard went off to college, but she doesn’t remember him at all and sometimes he really wishes he could do that too. Then there’s the whole flirty vibe he gets around her and Gerard knows damn well that Frank’s not straight, but he can’t help but wonder with her.

 

“Oh, Gabe.” Jamia begins, her tempered tone flatlining as she meets eyes with the man himself. “Thanks for setting the coffee maker on fire last week.” Gerard also remembers that he has some form of respect for Jamia with her taking-no-bullshit thing.

 

“Okay,” Frank injects, awkwardly shoving himself between Jamia and Gabe, who had concerningly pissed off expressions aimed towards each other. “Jay, if you don’t mind, d’you wanna get the fuck out of here?”

 

Oh. Frank used to say that to him when they would fuck off to wherever they could make out or just hang out. It feels... _ weird _ to have him say that to Jamia.

 

“Yeah, go on Frankie, leave the rest of us alone to deal with Gabe.” Bob says, the sarcasm teeming from his statement.

 

“That’s just what I was about to do, thanks.” Frank responds happily, completely missing the point. Well me fucking too, Gerard thinks, because there’s no way he’s gonna spend the rest of the night babysitting Gabe.

 

Gerard walks out the door in what he hopes is a slightly subtle way and walks the fuck back home, in the bitter freeze and leaving his car parked. Mikey can walk home anyways.

 

-

 

In the apartment, Gerard goes straight to the kitchen cabinets to find anything that would raise his BAC and carries an armful of liquor back to his bedroom, attempting to carefully put the drinks on the floor and plopping onto his mattress to switch open his computer. While it whirs alive, he twists the cap off one of the bottles and downs some of it. He coughs a little from drinking a little too much at once, but he supposes its effect made up for it because he almost forgets what he’s gonna do.

 

After a minute of trying to remember his next move, he eventually starts to type. About three sentences in, he forgets who he’s talking to. He looks back at the photo again, but it’s all blurry. Is it Lindsey? He still feels bad for talking shit to her, but he also hates that she’s constantly in her life even when she’s gone, so he types out something for her. But then, his vision shifts and then he’s pretty sure it’s really fucking Chad he’s talking to. His jaw clenches at the mere thought of him. Gerard types out a whole rant to him and clicks send.

 

Gerard lifts up the bottle in his hand. Cheers to him, he supposes, downing what’s left and passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos, comment, or cyberbully me into writing more lol


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